Monad Application

[ittakestwo]

OOC InformationName: Jas
Timezone: -5 GMT – Eastern Standard Time (United States)
Journal: regdichab
Player Contact: regdichab
IC Information

Name: The Psiioniic . [Non-Canon Alias: Ashvin Captor]
Canon: Homestuck
Gender: Male
Age:
Physically: 12 solar sweeps (around 26 years old).
Mentally: Unknown, though evidence suggests he lived for over 1000 solar sweeps, the equivalent of over 2100 years.
History: Canon Information for The Psiioniic Canon Information for Mituna Captor, his alternative universe self

[Headcanon Information as follows]

The Psiioniic was born in a time where adult trolls still inhabited the planet of Alternia. During this time period, Alternia’s blood-based caste system was in neat order as every caste policed the ones below them.

After surviving the grub-cavern trials, Ashvin was adopted by a bicyclops lusus who would act as his custodian (effectively, his parent). He spent his first few sweeps exploring the city he lived in and effectively blowing off the inane directions of his custodian. He enjoyed his solitude, and the idea of experiencing the world around him enamored him. It wasn’t long before he began to figure out just how this world functioned.

Then after four-sweeps of freedom, he received his next lesson on societal structures. Ashvin was forcibly separated from his lusus and removed from his hive complex, so that he could be thrown into the psiion workforce in the city. His duration of time in the city was short-lived, as he was later “relocated” due to a snotty sea dweller winning his services in a drunken bet.

Afterward, Ashvin spent several sweeps doing menial tasks for his Highblooded master, whom he swore relished in making him do simple things to reinforce the psiion’s own inferiority. Despite his typical self-loathing, the pettiness surrounding these actions fueled him to develop his own way with coping so that he could feel like he “bested” his master – in the form of casually offering his own sardonic oneliners to get him through the day.

During the ship’s travels, Ashvin began to hear whispers amongst others in the slave castes of sermons and a young troll who lacked a sign daring to preach radical notions of equality and peaceful co-existence. When he first heard of the idea, the Psiioniic laughed and claimed the wriggler would be culled long before the world would change, yet he found his thoughts wandering to what exactly this troll could have been preaching. He wondered what he was like, how he lived through the day, and just how a conversation would go between them. The reoccurring thoughts soon transformed into him wanting to experience this conversation for himself. He became determined to see if there really was a movement, and soon after he found himself planning his escape.

Yet the planning found itself obsolete, as Ashvin instead impulsively challenged his master to a duel after a particularly grating exchange. Before the duel began, the psiion broke the bonds that were meant to repress psiioniic energy by sheer chance. He had little foresight that his psiioniics were stronger than what the bonds hand been previously developed for, and he used this surprise to his advantage. He cheated in the duel and made a narrow escape to land where he tried to keep his head low while he searched for the Signless.

He ran into the Signless’ group by sheer dumb luck, and was at first a little taken aback that the people who were the subject of epic whispers were in fact just a nubby-horned scrub, his faithful olive follower, and their jade matron. He was vocal about his doubts, and yet still joined the group in order to “complete the hopeless picture.” While he often chose to argue ideas and “societal facts” with the others in the group, he also began to assist in organizing their plans and in navigating them from place to place. He often would use his own pessimism to be the “realistic voice of reason” amongst the group so that he could keep them alive just a little longer. Despite his negative approach, it became obvious how deeply his relationship with these trolls affected him. He even found himself believing that just maybe they could actually start some sort of change in this society.

As their travels became more dangerous and the Highbloods began to recognize the Signless’ sermons as an active threat – Ashvin became much more concerned with the preservation of their group. Though as the situation worsened, the Psiioniic began to suffer from terrible nightmares which he soon realized were the doomed premonitions of their journey. He grew irritable and paranoid following these dreams, and quickly closed up as to the cause of his irritability.

One night, he was lured from his spot in keeping watch due to a weird glow that seemed to be tracing the perimeter of their camp. He left to find the cause, only to be later subdued and captured without ever finding the source to the light.

He awoke in a holding cell, outfitted with a new set of bioware goggles. The goggles had tendrils that dug deep into his skin, wrapping around his zygomatic arches to secure their hold. The headgear had been uniquely crafted for him and was emblazoned with the Empress’ symbol, and effectively subdued his psiioniic abilities.

After a span of holding, he was brought out with the rest of the group to watch the Signless’ public execution and bear witness to the Signless’ final sermon.

After the death of the Signless and the escape of the Disciple, the Psiioniic was brought before Her Imperious Condescension herself and was given his new, “prestigious” position as the Helmsman to her own personal ship. Shortly after his sentence was delivered, a set of ports were installed into his spine under her audience and he was dragged away to his new station.

The first several sweeps of his service were rather inactive. The Empress did not travel far from Alternia so that she could still oversee the “order.” During their few travels together, Ashvin often attempted to reroute directions or send himself into errors as a form of rebellious inconvenience. The programming in the Helmsblock’s bioware would sense these deliberate acts of disobedience and force him into a state of reconfiguration. The Empress’ apparent affection for him was the only thing that prevented the programming from being allowed to reduce him to a more vegetative being. It was her liking for him that drove her to share her life span with him. Instead of living for a couple hundred of sweeps, the Psiioniic lived for countless sweeps as he worked the ship for her. Then, after the Summoner’s failed rebellion, their travelling together became more frequent with the decreased need for control on Alternia.

The programming in the helmsblock began to tweak memories and control his emotions, until it reached a point where he became solely focused on his captor. He grew loyal to her as hundreds of sweeps passed and his programming continued to reduce his fervor for the causes from his “old life.” He lived his remaining sweeps serving her as half the man he had once been.

As word of the Vast Glub’s impending occurrence reached the Imperial Fleet, Ashvin rushed the Empress’ ship back to Alternia under her order. He travelled thousands of light years in mere hours, badly overexerting himself and the Helmsblock system. Yet, instead of the overexertion claiming his life – the Vast Glub began and killed him as they arrive on Alternia, its horrible screech effectively scrambling his brain.

Personality: The Psiioniic was hatched into a bloodcaste which was renowned for their telekinetic abilities. The ochre-blooded trolls were regularly rounded up and harnessed for slave labor in Alternian Society, so that Highbloods could reap the benefits of the lower caste’s “gifts.” This system disenchanted Ashvin with his own powers, as he would often refer to them as an “unfortunate genetic mutation.” Despite his frequent laments, Ashvin heavily relied on his Psiioniic abilities and earned the title of “The Psiioniic” as word of his unparalleled abilities spread.

The reputation of being the world’s most powerful psiion did little to improve Ashvin’s low sense of self. Years of slavery combined with the effects of manic-depression took their toll on his personal value. He was often unable to appreciate his own achievements or talents, and instead would redirect attention to his flaws. In fact, he seemed to enjoy magnifying his flaws to others in order to ward people away, as this would ensure himself that he could not disappoint them or that his flaws would surprise anyone. His verbal self-flagellation could even be construed as a coping mechanism to reassure himself that he was, indeed, a big enough asshole to deserve the negative things that have happened over the course of his life.

A low self-worth was not the only aspect the Psiioniic learned over his years in slavery. Ashvin was quick to repress his own turbulent personality so that he could ensure his own survival. Low self-esteem never changed his will to survive, and once he found an easier way to avoid the more “harsh” aspects of his years in subjugation – he was quick to adopt it. He found that adopting an apathetic stance (though this could not stop his frequent abuse of dry one-liner retorts) meant that he could keep his head low and his “masters” content, which really only made his life easier.

His adoption of this way of life found him turning into a pessimistic being. He saw little point in looking for a silver lining, because he felt trapped in an infinite loop of societal oppression. Ashvin was quick to resign himself to live out his own “mediocre, shitty little sweeps.” He fought to repress his own mood swings (though sometimes he would still suffer a flare up, make a spectacle of himself, receive retribution, and berate himself for breaking from his passive lifestyle), and attempted to stick to purely logic to get through the day.

Yet after hearing of the Signless’ sermons, the Psiioniic found himself strangely entranced with this previously unthinkable idea of equality. It ate at his thoughts, until finally one day the impulse proved to be too much – and he broke away from his captors with surprising ease.

Even after escaping enslavement and joining the Signless’ entourage, Ashvin still retained a lot of his more pessimistic qualities. He liked to argue the viability of the Signless’ views of social conditioning and continued to insist that equality would be impossible. Despite his outward skepticism, the psiion found his self tentatively clinging to hope more and more – and he assured himself that if anyone would be able to bring about a change, it would be their group. He began to regard the Signless, the Disciple, and the Dolorosa in such a way that it lacked a label in general troll society. A connection that ran deep in his soul, the emotions that he felt for what would be regarded as a “family” were strong and easy prey to his frequent mood swings.

Ashvin has long suffered from bipolar disorder, which led to extreme episodes of contradicting emotions and left him reeling in their wake during his first sweeps in slavery. This led to some unpredictable outbursts, which were then usually followed by intense feelings of humiliation and backpedalling for damage control. Much like his Beforan-self, Mituna Captor, the Psiioniic often flipped between risky, aggressive behavior and cautious, passive behavior during his mood swings with little warning. The shifts of instability in his brain also resulted in occasional, severe migraines, which he could regard with mild annoyance.

While his moods were ever changing, there were notable constants in Ashvin’s personality as well. The Psiioniic’s held a deep loyalty to those who had earned his trust. He often sought to assist the one’s he loved with little regard to his own personal sacrifice. They were actions he did not even think about, but merely he accepted them as “what he should do.”

The Psiioniic also got a kick out of taking risks. From his escape from his master to travelling with the Signless, Ashvin enjoyed throwing himself into high stake situations. He had little regard for his own well-being when following these impulses. He enjoyed the high that followed the rush of adrenalin, as it effectively would distract him from his own brooding or his doomed premonitions. Yet when someone he loved would take a risk, he would be quick to berate them.

Ashvin was also noted for being easily flustered it came to situations where he had little control or became the target for a poorly timed joke. Despite his own sardonic nature — which fed off of making sassy remarks at another’s expensive – the psiion would sometimes become defensive if he felt like he could not regain control of the situation through his own wit or apathy.

After the destruction of his close knit group and the public execution of the Signless, the Psiioniic lost the hope that he’d managed to construct. He became embittered and suffered from an intense, constant anger even after he was installed into the Helmsblock. He attempted to show little ways of rebellion, fighting the system that attempted to reprogram who he was. Yet the sweeps starved him of contact and the more time that passed, the weaker his friends’ influence became in his mind. He eventually crumbled, resigning to his own hopelessness which allowed his programming as the Helmsman to become more effective.

The programming forced him into rejecting the movement he’d been involved with and even incited a flip of red and black feelings for his captor, Her Imperious Condescension. His programming tweaked his own rationale until his only focus was the Empress – and he quickly fell prey to developing a warp sense of concern for her. After the influences of the programming, he began to revel in the idea of being an important tool to the empire and the loyalty and openness that was originally reserved for his troll family belonged to his oppressor up until his death.

Powers/Abilities: Ashvin was considered the most powerful psionic of his era. His mustard-colored blood gifted him with unrivaled telekinetic powers. These abilities are realized through the ability to create and harness electromagnetic energy to move, hold, and throw objects with the use of his brain. The Psiioniic is also able to gather energy and fire destructive beams of pure energy from his eyes. In the same vein that the Condesce is able to retain some of her altself's (Meenah) Life Player abilities in the Alternian universe – Ashvin also retained some of Mituna’s prophetic visions. This manifests in strong prophetic insights to bleak events in the looming future.
For the time he spent in service as the mainframe for the Condesce’s battleship, Ashvin has an increased understanding in how computers and programs function.

Keepsakes/Mementos: -Bioware Goggles with Her Imperious Condescension’s emblem on the front.
-Long cloak worn during his travels with The Signless’s group.

Sample: [SYSTEM WARNING: CURRENT TEMPERATURE OF THE HELMSBAY PIA IS EXCEDING RECOMMENDED LEVELS. BAY MAINTENANCE HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED]

The warning transmitted into the Helmsman’s head was barely acknowledged. He was far too focused on completing his current task. He was to return Her Imperious Condescension to Alternia, the heart of their sprawling intergalactic empire, so that she could pacify her magnificent horrorterrror of a lusus. She had recently caught wind of its restlessness, and had to cease her far reaching campaign of universal conquest for now. If she could not return to their home planet in a timely manner, the horrorterror would begin to speak in its fabled, horrific tongue and lay waste to not only the young trolls of Alternia but the trolls holding up the far reaches of the empire as well.

The empire that she worked tireless sweeps on would fall, unless he could get her there within the next few hours.

Her life’s work rested on his shoulders.

His back arched with the force of the energy he expelled. He gnashed his teeth, as he attempted to keep his focus despite the burning sensation in his sinuses. He began to cut power to other parts of the ship so that he could focus his energy on solely their transportation.

There was a sharp crackle that sounded over the ship’s intercoms as Ashvin severed the communication channel for the ship. Next he lowered temperature control. The air began to become stale in the helmsblock as the bioware radiated heat as energy passed through its mass of looming tendrils.

Ashvin’s mouth dropped open, his breathing sponges desperate for air to keep him going. The burn behind his eyes spread into a hot pain in the back of his thinkpan. His eyes rolled. One of the bioware tendrils gently disconnected itself from his body so that it could then reconnect for, hopefully, a better hold on the psiioniic’s core.

He could feel his arms that were pinned above him begin to spasm. The limbs pinned below him began to follow suit. The bioware sensed the muscle convulsions and quickly wrapped around his hips in order to stabilize him.

The Psiioniic remembered the first time he felt those tendrils wrap around him, as they plugged into the sockets in his back and caused his vision to white out as he coughed and choked on his own drool. How those appendages slipped in and grabbed a hold of his neurocolumn and began to fuse with his nerves. How his arms and legs twitched helplessly in response as tendrils drove down to tangle his arms above his head, and weigh his legs and waist down.

He remembered seeing the Helmsblock instructions in his head for the first time, and how it sent him into a desperate rage.

He remembered her smiling as he cursed her for the wader she was. As he spat obscenities that probably didn’t make sense but were the only things that could soothe the scrambling going through his brain-sponge, through his body at that very moment. He swore he could still hear the sound of her laugh.

Her laugh…

Perhaps she’d laugh in his face again for working this hard. For struggling and convulsing as if this was the first time he’d ever piloted.

The smell of something sweetly acrid caught his olfaction center. His tongue immediately pressed to the roof of his mouth. The rancid aroma caused his digestive pocket to jump.

He was frying.

He sucked in a desperate breath through his olfaction center. His lids slammed down over his vision globes.

The Helmsman had to carry-on. He cut the lights in the ship, so that only the emergency walkways would remain lit.

Then the error messages began to pop up. First one mentioned an error with the Helmscore. Then another one mentioned an unexpected error with the navigation and tracking system. Soon, the errors were flooding into his head so fast he could not keep track of what systems were failing and what few remained.

Was he going to die?

Like…

He couldn’t remember his name. What was his name? He remembered his smile. He remembered red. That final scream rung in his head. The Sufferer – but what had been his name?!
The scream that filled his head moments ago began to morph. Its octave hit something that Ashvin had never quite heard before – and he would never hear again. His eyes widened as he felt a thick sludge begin to squeeze out of his tearpores.

The sludge dripped out of his auralflaps, out of his olfaction center.

He was going to die.

But, did he make it? Did he do it? Or was he going to die a humiliating death as a failure? Wouldn’t that be the most apt?

A heave tore through the Psiioniic’s chest, his own mustard sludge pouring from his mouth and sloshing onto his tangles of bioware. His entire body began to lock, his head tilting upward to look at a dim mass of fuschia tendrils above him, watching over him, cradling him.

Whatever he’d done, he'd earned this. A feeling long forgotten welled up in his chest before melting away. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

His scream of release was lost to the terrific shrieks of a cruel seagod.

Mindset: Upon waking up, Ashvin is a mix of exasperation and resignation. Due to his unusually prolonged lifespan, he has already lived far longer than anyone of his blood-caste was ever intended. Death was a welcome end to a life that was one drawn-out, unfortunate event after another, and so Ashvin has found this particular circumstance to be cruel and unusual. He will be looking for a way to erase himself out of the system so that he may finally cease to exist – and thus, rest.

G̶̶l̨͡i̵͢t̷c͝͠h̕é͠s̷̷͡: Ashvin suffers from bipolar disorder, rendering his emotional stability as a vulnerability. He also has an abysmal self-esteem and can be easily turned in on himself (or lash out at others as a way to “protect” himself.) On top of his emotional issues, The Psiioniic has led a life outlined by particularly difficult events – and particularly is disturbed by events in which control is wrenched away from him. This troll has gone through two bouts of slavery and the collapse of a cause in which he truly believed in. Visions or glitches which take elements from these traumatic points in his life are easy ways to put him on edge. Glitching him between his identity as The Psiioniic and as The Helmsman also prove to be an interesting outlet, given that these are from two very drastic points of his life.